


so that i never feel alone again (i want you by my side)

by icedwaters



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Gen, H&L, M/M, a real big lack of anyone other than h&l, hlwinterficexchange, i'm so sorry for how fluffy this is, lots and lots of fluff, there's not much else to it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2769215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icedwaters/pseuds/icedwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas time in the Tomlinson household has always meant family and laughter and delicious homemade food. Christmas time for Louis has always meant striving to save every penny, sneaking around and buying four different presents in various shades of pink and purple, and most especially, getting teased endlessly for his lack of present wrapping skills. Christmas time has always meant tons of sweets and love and celebration, because it's not only Christmas, but his birthday, too. This year is different though. </p>
<p>(or, the one where louis spends winter hols alone in london and ends up with a lot more than he bargained for)</p>
            </blockquote>





	so that i never feel alone again (i want you by my side)

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiiiiiiiiiiii
> 
> omg okay so i can't believe this is actually done. i haven't finished a fic in sososososooo long but i toughed it out and i love this fic it is my baby. (not really but)
> 
> punkrocktommo, i know you were probably looking for a lot more smut than i gave you (none, actually. i gave you none) but don't you worry bc i already have a sequel in the works and there will be so much smut you won't know what to do with yourself (i honestly just didnt want them to have sex so soon after meeting like wow sorry)
> 
> and okay, so i deviated from the prompt a bit. (i know, i'm awful) there's no snow storm, but they do end up in a """shelter""" and run out of beds and well. it's the thought that counts? 
> 
> but yeah i really hope you like this and merry merry merry christmas !!!!!
> 
> (title from stolen dance by milky chance)

Christmas time in the Tomlinson household has always meant family and laughter and delicious homemade food. Christmas time for Louis has always meant striving to save every penny, sneaking around and buying four different presents in various shades of pink and purple, and most especially, getting teased endlessly for his lack of present wrapping skills. Christmas time has always meant tons of sweets and love and celebration, because it's not only Christmas, but his birthday, too. This year is different though. 

This year, Louis is in London for uni and has to save every single penny to stay in his flat on campus. This year, Louis has to spend Christmas alone, curled up on his couch with a bottle of wine. Classes have already been let out for winter hols, so it's not like Louis has school on his birthday, but Zayn's already gone back home. Has been gone since Monday and now it's Friday, Louis' birthday, and the only reason he's even gotten out of bed this morning is because he wanted some tea and he had run out the day before.

In theory, Louis knows the smartest idea would be to run to the store and buy his own tea before the shops close for Christmas day, but in practice Louis is a much lazier man than that. The campus coffeehouse is two blocks away from his shop whereas the grocery store is about a kilometer. Louis is not up for walking a full kilo in the freezing cold. 

His fingers are just starting to thaw again pressed up against his hot cup of tea when he rounds the corner to where his flat is located. He can't wait to get into his room, because even though it costs an arseload, it's warm and smells like cinnamon because of this candle Zayn had bought him and it's warm. However, when he gets closer to his building he notices all the RA's talking amongst one another and to the campus police, most of the students bundled up in large coats and blankets. 

There are a few normal students milling around as well, no doubt trying to catch snippets of their conversations, but Louis can hardly hear anything when he walks by, so he doubts people eavesdropping three meters away will be able to hear anything. Louis decides that he doesn't care enough about what's going on to stay out in the freezing cold for any longer than he has to, so it's with a disdainful sip of his tea that he breezes by, into the building. He just barely catches the lift, shoving his fingers between the doors at the last second, causing them to shudder back open. Not for the first time Louis wonders if today might be the day that the old things give out, but he still shuffles in next to a tall bloke with long hair and a large pea coat on. 

Louis nods at him in appreciation, reaching across him to press his level number before realizing that it’s already lit up. "Oh," he mumbles, retracting his hand and pressing his cold fingers back to his cup of tea.

"Going to the same place then?" the tall boy asks, smile wide on his face. He seems far too chipper for how cold and early it is. Louis just nods in response.

"Seems that way, " he says in return, sipping at his tea with an air of finality. The doesn't seem to get it though, his large grin unfading.

"What a coincidence," he notes, and Louis hides his eye roll in his drink. 

"I've never seen you around before," Louis says then, skeptically, side eyeing the kid. He's got pink cheeks and a large chunky scarf on, two cups of steaming hot chocolate wedged into the large palm of one of his hands. He's definitely way too aesthetically pleasing to live here without Louis noticing him. 

“Oh, I don’t live here,” the boy explains, waving his free hand in Louis' direction. Louis is still kind of in awe that this guy can hold two cups of hot chocolate in one hand without fumbling around and having a couple of spill scares. In fact, his other hand is free, meaning he could hold one cup in each hand if he wanted to, but he decided it would be easier to just put them both in one. Who the hell has hands that big? "I'm visiting my mate. Niall? You probably know him since you live on the same floor and all." 

Louis nods. Of course he knows Niall, everyone does. Niall's the most kind-hearted and beer-loving guy on the entire floor, throws awesome parties, and makes amazing nachos. Niall is great. Louis is proud to say that he's one of Niall's closer friends on the floor, having spent many nights up late with him talking about nothing and getting high (Niall has a great dealer, Louis has a lot of stress).

“Yeah, I know Niall,” he says as the lift comes to a stop. The doors slide open and Louis strolls out quickly, wanting to get to his room as quickly as possible. He had decided that instead of eating for a week he would leave on the heating while he was gone so it would be warm for him when he got back. To his surprise, the large handed stranger easily keeps pace with him, still smiling brightly, as if he has not a care in the world. Louis isn’t sure that this boy’s human. 

“Tell Niall I said hi,” Louis mutters when they have to split paths, Louis continuing down the hall and Harry stopping three doors down from him.

“Wait!” he hears from behind him. He pauses, glancing back. “What’s your name?”

“Louis,” Louis informs him, then steps into his room. The air is warm and welcoming and Zayn had come over and tidied up a bit because he's an awful enabler, so Louis had somewhere to lay. After putting his cup of tea on the bedside table, Louis did exactly that, flopping down on his bed and groaning out loud. 

He let himself rest for exactly point three seconds before hauling himself out of his bed and dragging his sorry ass to his desk, rubbing his tired eyes. He has nine essays due by the time winter break is over and he'd learned by his second year of uni that waiting until the last minute to do them is a great way to develop an acute anxiety disorder for a couple of weeks. So, being the amazing student he is, Louis powers up his computer and opens up his textbook, settling in for a good study session. If he could, he'd lay in bed and do it, but last time he did that, he fell asleep for a good two hours. He writes a note to himself to buy a new desk chair when he can afford it. 

It isn't long after he writes down a solid thesis statement that someone knocks on his door. Louis isn't sure if he's annoyed at or grateful for the distraction. He opens the door to find a very disgruntled Liam, a boy who lives down the hall from him. "Apparently we've been kicked out. Some idiot first year played a stupid prank and we're to be evacuated immediately," he informed Louis, forgoing and sorry of greeting and just cutting to the chase. 

"What?" A prank? Evacuation? What kind of prank is so bad that they have to evacuate an entire body building for? 

"I dunno mate, honestly. I've just been told we have to leave. Can't even take any of our stuff. We're to meet downstairs immediately." Liam shrugs and then starts making his way down the rest of the hall, knocking on doors on his way and spreading the news. Louis slinks back into his room, eyeing the rest of the students swarming the lifts with blankets and pillows in their hands. 

He decides that if he must leave, he’ll at least do it comfortably, when there aren’t a hundred some odd people all trying to exit the building at one time. Louis likes to think that his marks don’t reflect how much of an intellectual he truly is. 

In the meantime, he continues working on his paper. He’s only gotten through the first two paragraphs when there’s another knock on his door and he groans, dragging himself back to the front of his room. This time it’s his RA, going around to make sure that everyone’s left. He’s not as calm or pleasant as Liam is. Louis is forced out of his dorm room without anything other than the clothes on his body and the shoes he convinces his RA that he has to go back for. He also grabs an extra pair of socks out of spite.

Being the last person to leave his building also means being the last person to arrive at the makeshift shelter they’ve made out of the library. There are students spread out everywhere, sitting at the tables, the lucky ones occupying some of the chairs and couches, and most of them gathered around in clumps on floors. There are cots on the floor, and most of them have been pushed together and piled over with blankets and pillows, students laying together in groups of four or five. 

Louis watches everyone interact as he waits in the queue for his blanket and pillow. They’re checking people off by name and Louis is really impressed at how organized all of this is considering they haven’t had long to throw it all together. 

There are a few kids laying on top of the work tables and messing around, their friends poking and prodding them, some piling pillows on top of each other. Louis looks on without really seeing, his mind zoning out on what he’s looking at. It’s just that it looks like they’re having great fun, actually. They’ve been forced out of their homes on Christmas Eve and they don’t seem to really mind; they’re just happy where they are, with each other. It’s Christmas Eve and Louis was almost forced out of his room with no shoes on. It’s Louis’ birthday and he’s spending it alone. For some reason, Louis thought he’d be okay with that. He’s brought out of his thoughts by someone tapping his shoulder. 

“Sir?” 

It’s a young woman who’s speaking, clipboard in hand. She’s got her hair in a bun and a thick scarf wrapped around her neck and draped over her shoulders. She reminds Louis of someone. “Excuse me? Sir? Your name?” she asks Louis, eyebrows furrowed.

Louis’ eyes snap up to meet hers, and he smiles at her, apologetic. “Sorry. Tomlinson, Louis,” he clarifies, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. She smiles at him and then consults with her clipboard, flipping a few pages and scanning until she apparently finds him, ticking his name off. 

“Alright,” she mumbles, and then she flips a few more pages, scanning for something else. This takes a bit longer than finding his name did, but Louis has patience. He’s lived with four younger sisters for most of his life, after all. If he didn’t have patience, Louis would be a very unhappy man. Unpleasant, too. (Despite Zayn’s claims, Louis is very sure that he could be much, much worse.)

“Oh, no.” It’s quiet. It’s very quiet, but Louis definitely hears it. He raises an eyebrow. Oh, no? Well what did that mean? Did she accidentally log everything two spaces below where they were supposed to be? Did she tick off the wrong person’s name somewhere? Why isn’t she elaborating?

The girl tells him to hold on a moment and hurries off to find someone else that doesn’t look very official looking, but apparently is also in charge here. They speak in hushed voices and glance at Louis every once in a while, the kinds of looks that your teachers give you when they have bad news. Louis remembers getting looked at like that when he was in year six and his father had walked out on him and his mum. He wonders if his new step dad has left his mum and instead of telling him, she had just contacted his school and now they were deciding how to tell him. 

Louis wonders when he got his imagination back because just the other day he’d been pretty sure uni had sucked it out of him, along with his sense of humor. When the girl came back to him, he raised his eyebrows at her. "Sir." She sounds like she just killed her puppy. Louis could really do without the thing she's doing with her face that makes her look like a kicked puppy as well. 

"Could you just please tell me what's going on?" Louis asks, sighing and shoving his hands in his pockets again. He wishes he had his tea again. He thinks about how sad it must be, still sitting alone on his bedside table. 

"Sir, I'm really sorry. I don't know how this happened, but.. There are no more cots, we just gave out the last one. We must have miscounted or something-" she continues speaking, but Louis tunes her out, opting to wait until she's done with her spiel. 

"Well who got the last one, then?" He asks. Maybe he'll go over and give them some shit before he finds some patch of the floor to sleep on. 

"Er-" The woman looks confused by his reaction. Obviously she expected him to react better or worse, though which one he's unsure of. Nevertheless, she looks around, scanning the crowd until her eyes light up in recognition and she points toward a tall lad laying out his blanket and pillow on his cot. "See that tall bloke? Pea coat? Big scarf?" 

Louis narrows his eyes. Big scarf and pea coat? No.. "I see him," he mutters, offering no other words as he walks off, weaving his way through the clumps of students and tables. "Oi! You there. Curly!"

The boy turns, and of course. It is that guy from the elevator. Niall's friend. He's alone, apparently not having found Niall, but his eyes brighten the second he recognizes Louis. "Louis!" his face breaks out into a grin. "I was wondering if I'd see you here." 

"So you're the one who stole my bed," Louis crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Excuse me?"

"The cot. You stole it from me," he accuses, eyes narrowed.

"What? No, I was assigned this bed. They just gave it to me," Niall's friend furrows his brows in the most endearing way. He's really quite adorable, if Louis thinks about it. Not that he is thinking about it. Just if he were to think about it. 

"Yeah, but it was the last bed. And you don't live in our building, you said so yourself. So you're not even supposed to be here, meaning that _you stole my bed_ ," Louis elaborates on his initial statement.

"Wh- No, your building and my building were evacuated. I live in the one next to you," he explains, before his eyebrows furrow even more. "This is the last bed? They didn't give you a bed?" 

When Louis nods in confirmation, his face turns into one of what seems to be absolute horror. And then he just absolutely explodes into apologies and utterly devastating pouts, genuinely upset at the fact that he happened to get the last bed, leaving Louis without anywhere to sleep for the night. The amount of times that he offers Louis his own cot is alarming, to be honest. Louis had just wanted to mess with him a bit, make him feel bad for a second, but this is awful. _Louis_ feels bad for how bad this kid feels. There is absolutely no way that another human being has gotten this upset over his own luck before.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa. Calm down. I was just taking the piss, mate, it's fine. I don't want your bed, don't worry about it," Louis assures him, holding his hands up as if to shield himself from the onslaught of apologies being hurled at him.

"Do you want to share, then? We can share the bed, is that okay? Do you want to share?" 

"You move a bit quick, then, don't you, love? I don't even know your name." Louis revels in the way the boy's cheeks flush a light pink, making them match the color of his lips.

"Harry," he mumbles, eyes trained down at the floor.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Harold."

"Harry," he corrects.

Louis raises an eyebrow. "Alright, Harry. I won't steal your stolen bed," he says wryly, "but I think I will steal this nice patch of floor right next to you, if you don't mind."

"Are you sure you don't want the cot?" Harry starts worrying his lip between his teeth, which are annoyingly straight and pearly white. 

"I'm sure. You just sit back. Relax on the pile of your stolen treasures." Louis sits down and looks up at Harry, motioning for him to sit down on the cot. Harry huffs, but complies, perching on the edge of the cot and shifting a bit until he gets comfortable.

"What are you doing for Christmas?" Harry starts speaking almost as soon as he's settled on his bed, the idea just seemingly bursting out of him. He blushes and ducks his head after, rubbing at one of his eyes. "I mean.. Why aren't you going home?"

"Living in the city is just too exciting to go home," Louis shrugs. "Besides, I have four sisters that never leave me alone on my birthday, so. I figured I deserve a break this year, huh?" He laughs to himself. He realizes he's made a mistake as soon as he looks up at sees the look in Harry's eyes.

"Your birthday's on Christmas?" Harry asks urgently, starting to dig in his pockets.

"What? No, of course not!" Louis waves a hand at Harry. "My birthday isn't Christmas."

"Then when is it?"

Louis scratches the back of his neck as he ducks his head. "Christmas Eve," he mumbles, hoping Harry won't hear him and that'll be that. From the way that Harry squawks in indignation, is obvious that he does hear him, however.

"That's today!" He accuses. "Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?" 

"Didn't think it was that important," Louis rolls his eyes. "Look, Harry don't worry about it, okay? It was my birthday when I was alone and it's my birthday now that I'm here with you, so just.. don't go out of your way to try and make it special." 

Harry scoffs, holding a hand up at Louis. "Please." 

Louis laughs at that response, looking at Harry with bright eyes. "Alright, alright. I'm gonna go see if I can at least get a blanket and pillow from the people in charge. I'll be back." He stands up and Harry stands with him. Louis puts his hands on Harry's shoulders, resenting the way he has to really reach for it. "You stay here." 

"I am," Harry says defensively, though he's looking around the room in his peripheral vision. For what, Louis doesn't know. 

"Alright? I'll be back..." Louis only glances back once as he heads to the front of the library, but when he does, Harry's already walking off the opposite direction. Louis shakes his head and pretends that he hadn't seen. 

The woman who had been assigning people to beds isn't there anymore, but the table that she had been sitting at is. Louis looks around, scanning the room for chunky scarves. All he sees is Harry across the room frantically punching numbers into a vending machine. He really is too genuine to be real. Louis doesn't get it, but he won't ask questions. He decides that he'll just appreciate Harry's company. 

Turning his attention back to the task at hand, Louis searches for the girl again, but it's in vain, really. There's not an official looking person in sight. What there is, though, is a box full of standard blankets and pillows beneath the table. Louis glances around one last time. 

He returns to Harry's and his little set up with an armful of blankets and pillows stacked up to his eyes. "Oh my god, what are you-" he hears Harry's voice and then some of the pillows are taken from him. 

"Since I don't get a bed, I'm just gonna make one myself," Louis shrugged, dumping the pile of blankets on the floor next to Harry's cot. He figured if he piled up enough blankets, the cold of the floor wouldn't seep into his bones. 

"Let me make it. I'm good at making blanket beds. I used to camp out in my sitting room as a kid with my cousins," Harry smiled and took the blankets from Louis, setting them on his cot so they'll be out of the way. "And. Happy birthday." 

Louis watches as Harry pulls something out of his pocket and then stretches his hand out to Louis. He eyes it suspiciously. "Is that a bag of biscuits from the vending machine and- did you _draw_ a smiley face on your hand?" 

Louis is not prepared to handle the enigma that is Harry. Not when he buys impromptu birthday presents for near strangers and especially not when he nods excitedly and points to a small line drawn on his palm. "That's it's nose," he grins. 

Louis doesn't particularly want to accept any gifts from Harry, because he might get the wrong idea, but how can Louis say no to a face like that? If Louis were a stronger man, he'd be able graciously decline. But unfortunately Louis failed physical education and he'd always been a sucker for a pretty face. He didn't stand a chance.

"Thank you, Harry," he smiles, taking the bag from him and sitting down on the pile of blankets on top of the cot. 

Harry spreads out the first blanket while Louis opens up the bag of cookies, yawning and stretching out. They talk while Harry makes Louis' bed. Harry lays out each layer carefully, and Louis takes on the important role of supervising. (He's the sort of supervisor that eats biscuits and hands blankets to his workers when they need it. He takes his role very seriously.) 

When Harry's done, he strikes a pose and wiggles his fingers, grin wide and eyes expectant. "Tada!" he cheers, earning a few shushes from other students around them. A lot of them have already laid down to rest, a few of them sleeping. When Louis checks the time, he's surprised to see that it's grown to be late in the evening. He and Harry must've talked for longer than he thought.

After all, Harry had taken a break halfway through that was long enough for them to debate which of them had better music tastes. That, of course, had sent them spiralling into a heated discussion about music and pop culture, which ended in them both laying on the half made bed, staring up at the ceiling as they talked about the importance of the softness of potential friends hair. 

( _"I like your hair, it looks soft."_

_"Thank you?"_

_"No, really. Hair softness is an important trait to have in a friend."_

_"Well, naturally. That's just the first thing I look for in potential friends."_

_"Heeeeeey, don't be mean."_ )

"Thank you, Harry. It's lovely," Louis says, genuinely appreciative of Harry's generosity. He thinks they could maybe hang out for longer than just the night. Mostly because when Louis tries to procrastinate on his studying Harry will provide him with fun distractions instead of giving him devastating smouldering looks like Zayn. And maybe Harry'll let Louis kiss him a bit and hold his hand when it's late and they're a little less than sober. God knows Zayn didn't.

As they settle down in their respective sleeping places, Louis watches how Harry folds up his legs awkwardly before stretching them out long, watches the curve of his back as he tries to fit in the small cot. "Do you want more pillows?" Louis asks when harry tries to punch his one into a more comfortable shape. After all, Louis does have about nine. 

When Harry looks over and sees Louis all propped up on his ten pillows he starts laughing out loud, causing several other ' _shhh!_ 's to cut through the wintery air. He whips out his phone and snaps a picture of him before Louis can even blink. "What?"

"You looked cute," Harry says simply before reaching over and snatching a pillow from under Louis' shoulder. 

_What?_ "What."

Harry just laughs again, quieter this time. "Goodnight, Louis," he murmurs, snuggling down into his pillows. Louis smiles softly and does the same, tugging a blanket up to his chin. 

"Night Harry," he murmurs quietly. 

Harry closes his eyes then, and so Louis does the same. He figures it might be in his best interest to go to sleep already. By the time he wakes up, it'll be Christmas and he'll be able to go home. So he tries. He really tries to sleep, but he's a uni student. He's grown accustomed to staying up late and sleeping in even later. It's not in his nature to go to sleep so early, even if anyone else is.

He finds himself staring up at the ceiling after trying to sleep for about twenty minutes. He keeps glancing over at Harry to see if he's awake, too, but as far as he can tell the boy is fast asleep. He's even snoring a bit, his pink lips parted. Louis ends up watching him instead of the ceiling, seemingly mesmerized.

After a bit, the snoring stops, but Harry doesn't wake. He just closes his mouth and shifts a bit to get more comfortable. Louis watches until he gets settled down in his cot again, fingers pressed beneath his cheek. Louis smiles fondly. He's about to close his eyes when Harry opens his, a sly smile on his face. "Don't you know staring is rude?" he asks quietly, eyes tired, but shining with mirth.

The lights have been dimmed by now, a soft glow that falls over Harry’s cheeks, makes his eyes shine. He really is a sight to see like this, his features soft with sleep, loose curls falling over his forehead. Louis doesn’t have the energy to be embarrassed. Harry is beautiful like this. “Don’t you know falling asleep first at a sleepover is rude?” he retorts. 

A sleepy smile spreads over Harry’s face, his eyes blinking closed for a few moments before he opens them again. “It’s Christmas Eve, you have to go to sleep or else Santa won’t leave anything under the tree for you,” he mumbles.

Louis scoots closer so they can hear each other better. They have to speak quietly because of the others in the library, so it only makes sense. It’s definitely not so he can count each of Harry’s eyelashes up close. Louis has more self control than that, really. “I don’t have a Christmas tree,” he says easily, eyes looking up at Harry’s, only just now noticing that they’re a very light green. As green as the sea. Louis thinks he might be able to drown in them.

“What?” Harry’s whisper raises in volume, his hand coming to his chest in mock-offense. Or is that real offense? His face looks like a representation of literal exclamation marks. 

“I don’t have a tree?” 

“How come you don’t have a tree? What are you, some kind of _scrooge_?” There’s accusation somewhere in Harry’s tone, but Louis ignores it.

“No, I just live in the world’s smallest college dorm. A tree wouldn’t fit in there. Don’t you live in a dorm, too?”

Harry shrugs noncommittally. “So?”

“Are you telling me you’ve somehow assembled a Christmas tree in there?”

“No, of course not. I had Niall help me carry one up the stairs three weeks ago,” Harry mumbles, cheeks pink.

“Wait, you have a real Christmas tree? You got a real Christmas tree through the tiny doors?” Louis raises an eyebrow. “Why do you have a real Christmas tree?”

Harry shrugs. “I like the way they smell. Don’t you?”

“Never smelled one.”

Harry turns into exclamation points again, his mouth forming a perfect little ‘o’. Louis tries not to imagines his lips anywhere other than across from him in bed (it doesn’t work). “Well that settles it then, you’ve got to come over for Christmas,” Harry says decidedly. 

_What?_ “What?”

“Great! Get some rest now, no time to waste. We’re up early in the morning. Night, Lou!” Harry grins and then rolls over on his cot, ignoring all of Louis’ attempts to ask any further questions.

Louis just shakes his head. He’s entirely too fond of this boy already.

⚣⚣⚣

Louis wakes up to Harry shaking his shoulder and tugging at strands of his hair. “Louis,” he whispers, despite the fact that the whole room is buzzing with chatter from the other hundred some odd people in it. 

“Hmm?” Louis mumbles, blinking a couple of times before letting his eyes slip shut again.

“It’s Christmas, Louis!” Harry yells into his ear. Louis’ eyes fly open and he sits straight up, nearly jumping out of his skin. 

Harry starts laughing immediately and if Harry had the mental capacity to glare at him he would, but as it is he’s having trouble just regaining his ability to breathe. “Fuck, Harry. What the hell?” he mutters, rubbing his eyes.

“Your face,” Harry wheezes. 

Louis is unimpressed. 

Harry has Louis up and folding his blankets in under ten minutes, a feat that Louis himself is impressed with, and then they’re returning them to the table and rushing out of the library, hoping to beat the crowd. There’s only a few others that are up and about as early as they are, so Harry grabbing Louis’ hand when they get outside is unnecessary, but Louis doesn’t say anything. He might lose Harry in the crowd. 

Louis has to let go of Harry’s hand when they get to his flat though, the door shutting behind him with a thump. It’s warm and smells like pumpkin spice and evergreen in Harry’s room which is really nice, but surprising since just outside in the hall it had smelled like cleaning products and a faint hint of something rotten beneath that. As Harry goes around and lights orange candles around the room, Louis’ eyes are drawn to the medium sized Christmas tree squished into the corner of the room. The top is bent to fit in the room, a golden star hanging precariously off of the edge of it and it makes Louis smile. Not to mention that Harry’s tree is decorated with colorful lights and mismatched ornaments, some homemade, scattered somewhat evenly all around the tree. When Harry’s done lighting candles, he plugs in the lights, and the tree immediately lights up, reds and green and purples flashing in intervals.

Louis has a feeling he’s really going to enjoy hanging out with this guy more often. “Happy Christmas, Lou,” Harry says, standing next to the tree with a wide grin on his face. Louis really likes the sound of that. 

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” Louis replies, mouth curling around a grin of his own.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you a present. You see, you’ve arrived on such short notice.” 

“I’d be happy with just a cup of tea.”

“Oh!” Harry immediately bustles past him into the kitchen, clunking around for a bit before he starts filling up a kettle with water from the tap. Louis shakes his head. “Make yourself at home! Get comfy! I’ve got Christmas jumpers in my room if you want to take off your winter coat.”

Louis would politely decline, but his toes are freezing and his arms break out into goose pimples as soon as he shrugs off his coat. So after he sets down his coat on the arm of the couch and toes off his boots, he wanders into Harry’s room, digging around in the closet until he finds a nice wine colored jumper. He takes his own shirt off and pulls the jumper on, then digs around in Harry’s drawers until he finds bobble socks for good measure. Both the socks and the sweater are too big for him, (he’s practically swimming in the jumper) but he doesn’t mind. It’s really nice actually, and judging from the look on Harry’s face when he walks back out to the kitchen, he doesn’t mind either.

“That’s not a Christmas jumper,” Harry accuses, and Louis just shrugs, opening every single one of Harry’s cupboards until he finds a pan and a large mixing bowl. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to make you breakfast,” Louis says, shrugging slightly. He’s never really made breakfast before, other than eggy bread, but it can’t be that hard, right?

“Oh, you don’t have to, I-”

Louis tuts and raises an eyebrow at Harry, making him fall quiet immediately. That’s interesting, Louis thinks. He’ll explore that more later. “I’m going to make you breakfast and you’re going to love it, Curly. Got it?”

Harry nods, a small smile on his face. “I’m gonna go change,” he tells Louis quietly, waiting for him to nod in affirmation before shuffling off to his room. Louis hadn’t realized how much tension had filled the room until Harry left and it dissipated. He lets out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding and searched Harry’s cupboards again for pancake mix.

When Harry comes back out with a reindeer on the front of his jumper, Louis is already mixing together all the ingredients for pancakes, a wooden spoon held tightly in his fist. Harry doesn’t say anything, but he opens a drawer and pulls out a whisk, plucking the wooden spoon from Louis’ hand with an eyeroll. “I take it you’re not much of a chef,” he says as Louis holds his mixing bowl to his chest defensively, whisking it with a slight frown.

“I’m actually a world-famous chef, so joke’s on you, mate,” he mumbles, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Harry laughs. Louis tries not to take offense. 

Harry opens his mouth to say something else, but the kettle starts whistling and he walks over to the stove to take care of it instead. “How do you take your tea?” he asks, pouring the steaming water into two mugs. 

“Milk, no sugar,” Louis mumbles automatically, working on greasing up the pan so his pancakes don’t stick to it, or something like that. He doesn’t actually know why he’s supposed to do it, he just knows his mum always scolded him when he didn’t (which wasn’t very often after the first time he tried and burned every single pancake he made). 

As Louis pours out silver dollar sized pancakes, Harry touches his elbow and Louis turns to look at him. He’s a lot closer than Louis expected, their noses nearly touching. “Your tea is ready,” Harry says quietly. Louis’ still staring up at him with wide eyes, the shock factor not wearing off yet. “I’ll find a Christmas show to watch on my laptop.” Louis’ still nodding as he walks away.

Later, when Louis announces that he’s finished with the pancakes, Harry bounces into the kitchen with an excited grin on his face. Almost immediately after seeing the pancakes, his grin fades. Louis has to admit they’re a little rough, but they’re not that bad looking. “Oi. What’s with that? They look fantastic,” he’s ready to defend the honor of his pancakes to the grave, even as he looks down and his pancake seems to deflate right before his very eyes. 

“Louis…” Harry starts, taking a few steps forward and poking at one of them. “Are you sure these aren’t _French_ pancakes?”

_What?_ “What?”

“Because they’re giving me the _crêpes_.”

“Oh my god. You didn’t.”

Harry seems to be trying to hold back his giggles, hiding his face behind a large hand. Louis shakes his head, but he can’t help it when he starts giggling, too. Harry has reduced him to a man that giggles at puns. “You’re ,i>awful.”

“You’re laughing!”

“I’m only laughing at how awful it is.” Harry laughs harder, his face turning so red that Louis starts to worry for his well being. “Oh, come on! They’re not that bad!”

“Louis, one of them looks like it’s frowning,” Harry giggles. “Pancakes shouldn’t have faces.”

“I did that on purpose,” Louis mutters, frowning down at his pancakes, who in all honestly are probably frowning back at him. 

“Let’s just watch Christmas movies,” Harry says as he takes the plates from Louis, putting them on the counter and pushing Louis’ mug of tea into his hands instead. “We’ll order out later.”

“Is anything even open today?” Louis asks as Harry leads him out into the living room where the laptop is set up, blankets and pillows piled up on the floor. Harry shrugs. 

“If not, I’ll make something. I’m _actually_ a world-famous chef,” he says, smirking over at Louis.

“Are you really?” Louis leans back on a mountain of pillows, shoving his cold toes beneath Harry’s thigh. Harry doesn’t seem bothered by it, just slings a blanket over both of their legs.

“No,” he replies cooly, pressing play on his laptop. Louis laughs softly, biting his lip when Harry curls his fingers around one of his ankles. “Shh, it’s starting.”

Louis doesn’t say anything, but Harry’s profile is gorgeous and his hand is warm and he makes amazing tea and Louis might just be a little in love. Christmas time for Louis always used to mean little sisters and opening presents and lots of delicious food, but this year Christmas time means curly hair and pink lips and stupid puns. And Louis would quite like for it to stay that way.

**Author's Note:**

> did you like it? comments and kudos are much appreciated.   
> come say hi on [tumblr](http://www.daddylouisjpg.tumblr.com)


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